End of the Road Page 14

  “But--”

  She was quick to cut him off. “But nothing, my darling. Let’s not waste the precious little time we have to ourselves on meaningless words.”

  He kept his mouth shut. He had no idea how to respond. What could he say? He needed to use the time available to him to think. Just to think.

  He tried to formulate a plan, but his mind wandered back to the first time he had seen her. It had been at the local gym. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She had walked in as if she owned the place, and, with all the stares in her direction, she very well could have. She was certainly the center of everyone’s attention. When she entered a room, people stopped to have a look, a good look. It was very difficult to pull one’s eyes from her. She was a magical figure. It was if she were a magnet, capturing one’s eyes and holding them in place.

  And the greatest thing about her was that she was so down to earth, so unassuming, so easygoing and friendly, full of laughter and gaiety.

  What a time they had had together. The time spent with her had been dreamlike. It had been—

  “So are you ready?” he suddenly heard her say.

  “Ready for what?”

  “You know,” she said, and she smiled sweetly at him, her face as pretty as anything he had ever seen.

  “Why are you doing this?” He knew that fear had penetrated his tone. He just couldn’t help himself any longer.

  “You know very well why I have to do this.” She stroked his cheek, then kissed it for the very last time. “Goodbye, my dear.”

  Wait!”

  A hawk could be seen in the distance.

  “You know full well why I must do this,” she said. “It is because I love you so much.”

  “We’ve been through this before,” he said. “I did not do it. I swear.”

  But she said nothing.

  “I swear on everything that is holy that I did not do it,” he said. He knew he was pleading, but what else was there for him to do? He had to get her ear before it was too late.

  “I am so sorry, my darling, but it is way too late for that, and you know it.”

  “I know no such thing!” He was shouting. Why wouldn’t she listen? And that’s when he heard it. “What’s that you’re doing?’ he asked her.

  “Don’t worry, my darling. I promise you that it will not hurt for long.”

  Then he knew. She slowly poured the gasoline all over the canvas, saving his head for last. She was meticulous. She did not miss a thing.

  It stank.

  And then out came the match.

  #

  It wasn’t for another week that she discovered the truth. She had been poking through the papers in his desk when she came upon it. At first she was shocked. Then she became scared by what she had done, but this quickly turned to anger—directed at him. It was his fault. He had no one else to blame but himself. He just had not been persuasive. If he had been much more forceful and forthcoming in his denials, then all of this would never have taken place. They would still be together, as happy as can be, living life to the fullest.

  She sat down, her head in her hands, but she did not sob. She worked her brain until she made things right. The stiff drink she had helped. She felt much better now. She could live with this. She was not to blame in the least for what had happened. Life would go on. Happy memories would sustain her. She would find someone new. She would be happily married once again. Yes, she would. She was determined.

  She smiled at the thought. Life was good again, just as it was supposed to be. At least they had loved each other “until death do us part,” and, in this day and age, there was a lot to be said for that.

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  THE END

  About the Author

  I have resided in and have visited many places in the world, all of which have contributed in some way to my own published writing. I have literally traveled throughout the world, on numerous occasions. I have lived in Finland, Germany, Thailand, Saudi Arabia (where COVERT DREAMS is set), and the U.S. Virgin Islands (where DEADLY EYES is set). I gained the wanderlust to see the world, to experience other cultures, at an early age, and this desire has never left me. If anything, it has only gained in intensity as I have aged. I try to travel internationally at least once a year. In the interim, I spend lots of time traveling around both my home state of California and other nearby states.

  I spent my early years in the small town of Lone Pine, California, the home of almost every western movie, in addition to a wide variety of other genres, made in the 30's, 40's, 50's, and 60's. In fact, Hollywood still films parts of big-time movies there today. My dad, the town's lifeguard at the time, personally knew John Wayne, Lloyd Bridges, and Lee Marvin, all of whom came to the town's pool, the Memorial Plunge, at times to cool off after a hectic day of working in the sun. I was even an extra in a movie filmed there in 1957, MONOLITH MONSTERS, a B-cult favorite even today. I was ten years old at the time. Even though I resided in a small town hours from the big city, I was exposed to the excitement of action and heroes at a formative age, and, thus, my interest in writing novels of suspense such as COVERT DREAMS and DEADLY EYES was born. I am particularly proud of the fact that these two international suspense thrillers are rated #1 and #2 on the Goodreads Recommended Thriller/Suspense list.

  As a recent retiree from a forty-year career as a professor of writing, I now live in Southern California wine country with my wife, Kitty, and our two adorable rescue cats.

  SPECIAL NOTE: COVERT DREAMS has recently received a Compulsion Reads endorsement. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Compulsion Reads, this company specializes in reviewing and endorsing those novels that meet its quality standards based on the fundamental qualities of good storytelling. Many books that the company reviews don't earn their endorsement, so this is a pretty big deal.

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  Michael Meyer’s ebooks and paperbacks can be found here.

  Chapter 19

  Holmgang

  By E.B. Boggs

  The events in this story take place in Vinland, in the year 1029 and involve the descendants of the original Jomsviking settlers of the New World.

  Valdimar was in deep contemplation. He had a decision to make and it was not an easy one. Nothing in his life had ever seemed easy to him. His father had been murdered and when he took revenge, he had become outlawed.

  Many people believed in him and had followed him, fought beside him and looked to him for leadership, as they had his father. But the gods were tearing them apart.

  Some of the people believed in the nailed god of the Christians. Some worshipped the old Pagan gods of the Norse. The Skraelings, the native people in this new land, held to their own gods.

  Two young men, Kolben, a Christian, and Arnulf a Pagan, were constantly baiting each other and fighting. Valdimar had warned them about such activities before, and yet they continued.

  Olaf and Hradi had reported the latest event to him. Kolben’s father, Hagni, had tried to stop them fighting and had ended up being stabbed to death by Arnulf.

  Kolben’s family was not interested in wergild for the murder and wanted to start a blood feud. Arnulf and his family were too willing to oblige them.

  Valdimar wanted to settle it with as little bloodshed as possible and had talked with both families. He was posing his idea to Olaf.

  “So what’s your plan then?” he asked.

  “Holmgang. It seems to be the only solution. They both have a great hatred for each other.”

  Olaf looked dubious.

  “Arnulf is by far the more experienced fighter. It seems a bit unbalanced,” said Olaf.

  “I have a plan to even the odds a bit,” said Valdimar. They talked for a while longer and while Olaf thought his strategy unusual, he admitted it would be fair. He agreed to share the idea with Hradi and no one else before the day of the holmgang.

  “A week from today we’ll have it. I’ll arrange for the preparations,” said Valdimar.

  “It shoul
d be bloody . . . and brief,” said Olaf.

  The week passed quickly. Valdimar, Blind Dog and Broddi had imbedded a post on a level bit of ground near the beach during the week. The post was about a foot in diameter. Five smaller logs had been cut to about a ten foot length and laid out around the post forming a rough pentagon.

  A crowd had gathered and at mid-day the two combatants and their families appeared. Each was armed with his favored weapon, shield and armor. Valdimar stepped to the post to speak to the crowd. He carried an axe in his hand.

  “Here is the reason for, and the rules of, this holmgang: Arnulf killed Hagni, Kolben’s father. Both men and their families have agreed to abide by my decision as to the settlement of this feud.

  “Both men will strip themselves of weapons and armor, including shields.” A murmur ran through the crowd at his words. He looked again at the crowd and continued.

  “This axe will be the only weapon allowed,” he held it aloft for all to see and then stuck it into the post.

  “Since both men favor their right hands for fighting, so their right hands will be bound together with rawhide. They must stay within the bounds of the five small logs. Being bound together, they will begin here,” he walked to the farthest corner of the five boundary logs.

  “The first to secure the axe and kill the other will be declared winner. Whoever wins, all of Arnulf’s and Kolben’s goods will be given to Kolben’s family.”

  There was a gasp from the crowd and some of the elders came forward to protest. Valdimar listened to their words. When they were finished he spoke again.

  “This is not the traditional duel, I know that. It is not for glory or to prove who is right! Both these men told me they dearly wanted to kill the other, that they would give all they had to do so, isn’t that right?”

  He looked at the two men waiting for an answer. They glanced at each other briefly and eventually nodded their heads.

  “And your families said they would accept my ruling?” Again they agreed to this by a curt nod of their heads.

  “Then this is it. Kolben’s family was wronged by the death of his father. Arnulf was at fault. Whoever wins, we all lose. Whoever wins, the property of both men will go to Kolben’s family. Since the fighting skill of both men varies with their weapon of choice, they will fight for, and with, a single weapon, without a shield, without armor. The axe is razor sharp; I honed it myself this morning.

  “If we are going to survive as a tribe in this savage land, we have to stick together! We can’t be fighting among ourselves! I urge all of you to keep your religion to yourself or share it with people that believe as you. Trouble no one about their beliefs. Is this really something you want to die for?”

  He looked at the crowd who now seemed somewhat subdued. The scene was quiet, with only the sound of the wind in the trees and the gentle lapping of the waves hitting the shore.

  “Let it begin. Remove their weapons and armor and bind their arms. May the gods you worship give you strength,” he said. He walked into the crowd and stood by his wife, Littlefoot.

  The silence was deafening.

  Once their wrists were bound together they were left alone. Suddenly Kolben, who was a bit larger than Arnulf, lunged toward the post. Arnulf grabbed his bound wrist with his free hand and pulled hard against the bigger man’s momentum.

  Kolben dug in his feet and began dragging Arnulf toward the post. Arnulf gave a quick tug at Kolben, making him stumble. As he fought to continue dragging his opponent, he exerted his leg muscles to the fullest. When Kolben’s right leg was fully extended, Arnulf jerked again, causing him to pause momentarily. In that short instant, Arnulf dug in his left foot and, raising his right, gave a vicious kick to Kolben’s extended leg. There was a loud snapping sound and a cry of pain from Kolben.

  As Kolben collapsed, Arnulf saw his chance and began to run around him in the direction of the post. Kolben grabbed his ankle and tripped him. The right arms of the combatants were bleeding from the rawhide that was tied so tightly around their arms. Arnulf rose slowly and began dragging Kolben toward the pole. Kolben fought against him and struggled to stand on his left leg.

  Arnulf grabbed the axe and turned to face his opponent. Just as he did, Kolben connected with a clenched fist to his jaw. Arnulf fell, dropping the axe, and dragging Kolben down with him. The axe now lay close to one of the boundary logs. Arnulf began to rise and Kolben grabbed his head and forced his thumb into the right eye socket of his rival. Arnulf screamed in pain and tried to roll away from Kolben.

  The two men grappled each other and rolled on the ground, eventually getting close to the axe. Arnulf tried to rise again to grab the axe and Kolben strained to drag him away from it. Arnulf aimed a kick at Kolben’s head and connected, stunning him for a moment. Arnulf grabbed the axe again and swung it in an overhead arc at his adversary. He was rewarded with a sickening ‘thwuck’ sound and a howl of pain from Kolben.

  Rolling over he realized he had struck Kolben in his left shoulder. Both men were breathing heavily now and near exhaustion. Neither of them had any feeling in their bound arms.

  Arnulf crouched on his haunches and pulled the axe free of the wound. He then pulled his and Kolben’s right arms out straight and aimed a furious blow at Kolben’s right arm.

  Seeing what was coming, Kolben pulled back hard with his arm as the axe fell. Arnulf heard the crunch of bone and the tearing of flesh and his arm pulled free. He then stood and buried the axe into Kolben’s grinning face.

  The fight was over, Arnulf had won. The crowd was silent. Blind Dog ran to Arnulf with a fire brand.

  “Wha . . . what are you doing?” he asked feebly.

  “I’m burning your stump so you won’t bleed to death when we remove the rawhide,” Blind Dog said.

  Arnulf looked down to see that in the confusion of the melee, he had cut off his own arm. He swayed momentarily and then passed out.

  “Arnulf is the winner,” said Valdimar. “Hagni’s family has now lost two members and all the property of Arnulf and Kolben will go to them.” He paused for a moment looking at the crowd.

  “What have we gained from this pointless killing? Our people have lost two men and another has become impoverished, half blind and crippled.

  “Arnulf is safe from blood vengeance or wergild, since he now has nothing, except his life. Bury your man,” he said to Kolben’s family.

  “He was a good man who has come to the end of his road, and will be missed when we once again do battle with our enemies.”

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  Chapter 20

  Young Chef’s Regret

  By David A. Cuban

  A young man has to decide which career to follow: chef or teacher. His judgment is clouded-on one hand-by his sense of pride and his cockiness; on the other, by his loyalty and desire to serve. The results of his choice could be disastrous.

  As he reminisces on the choice he made, the sudden death of his best friend forces him to scrutinize for the very first time what his own life has become.

  A clever study into the soul of a tortured man who, by all appearances, has achieved a high degree of success.

  Journeys of the Mind

  Oftentimes, it is hard for us to trace the single thought that triggers a vivid emotion in our minds; one that makes us think of an important event in our lives. This is not one of those times. As I reread a cruel e-mail telling me that my best friend Godwall had died of a heart attack in his sleep, I immediately thought of much happier times for the two of us.

  I am packing a light bag and heading for the airport, passport in hand. I know that the hardest thing will be looking at my best friend for the last time and wondering if the rumours are true. My uncle Denis told me that Godwall took a fatal [accidental] overdose of his heart pills.

  Godwall was only two years older than me. Together since elementary school, we had survived the army, bar brawls, skydiving, boxing, motorcycling, numerous double dates and a few other adventures I will perhaps share som
e other time. As I scanned the best memory of him I had, this one popped straight into my mind…

  The summer of ‘79 was a great time for me…or so I wanted to believe. I had turned 23 in May. By mid-June, I had graduated from Teachers’ College and I was already relishing my future adventures in the classroom. I was also seriously considering becoming a chef.

  We were serious foodies at home. I cannot recall a day without three or four dinner guests, at least. Our French and Spanish background and the emphasis my grandfather, my father–as well as every other male member of our family–placed on cooking, made it only natural that I wanted to receive formal culinary instruction. Either way, the request I received from my best friend’s sister in early July most definitely threatened to foul up the rest of my holidays.

  Godwall was a great guy. His whole family loved me. That’s why when I was invited to a formal dinner–where his sister’s future groom and in-laws were guests of honour–I took it as yet another sign of their affection for me. Everyone knew I loved cooking and dinner parties. Of course I would be there.

  The News that Set the Room on Fire

  The large dining-room was beautifully decorated, as befitting the occasion. Godwall’s sister, Addys María herself found a place at the table for me. –“Here, Dave. You sit right here close to me” she said with a big smile, her right hand discreetly squeezing one of mine. I sat down quietly. My mind was racing like a wild horse. Was she all right? Had she made a pass at me? Goodness! She’s almost family! Twenty minutes later, when Godwall arrived, I was on my third glass of wine. It was not helping though.

  Godwall and Addys María’s parents had been divorced for many years. Theirs had been a very acrimonious split. Only something as important as Addys María’s wedding could get them together under the same roof again. In addition to both parents, their respective spouses had been invited. These four people had been respectfully, yet strategically, seated around the longest Arthurian table human eyes could ever see–other than in English movies depicting mediaeval opulence. Naturally, Godwall and Addys’ five aunts were there along with their eight children.